Nicholas Smith - The Biomass Revolution

“I want Eduro’s resignation on my desk by tomorrow,” Governor Felix snorted, before disappearing into the bowels of the Capitol hallways.

Sonni listened to the echo of clanking armor from the Governor’s two guards who raced after him. He sighed, reluctantly rising from his chair to follow the most powerful man in the world out of the chambers. “This is going to change things,” he muttered.

Time: 12:31 a.m. January 30, 2071

Location: Biomass Trolley Docking Station #4. Tisaia

Terminus sat at his post, overlooking the trolley station below. He took a bite of a cold turkey sandwich, chewing it slowly with his old and broken teeth. These days he had to be careful when eating, for he didn’t have the money to get another one of his teeth fixed. His age had started to catch up with him, and his teeth were only one of the harsh realities he faced on a day to day basis.

The screech of a trolley screamed out in the night, bringing Terminus to his feet as he squinted to make out the train in the distance. The station Terminus worked had been in operation for ten years and was the largest trolley station in Tisaia. Its sole purpose was to carry Biomass across the country from the facilities to the cities, which powered their vehicles, and supplied their heat and energy needs.

As the massive oval light of the trolley burst over the horizon, Terminus put his sandwich on a handkerchief and raced down the stairs to the platform. Three other State workers joined him on the brick ledge of the trolley docking station. The red of their overalls blended in like camouflage under the red glow of the street lights lining the trolley platform. Terminus nodded at Decima, a maintenance worker he had worked with for years.

Terminus’s radio blared to life as the trolley continued to close in on the station. “Biomass trolley 467, approaching dock station #10. Requesting permission to dock for repairs, over,” the conductor said, over the static of the radio.

Terminus brought his black, wallet-sized radio up to his mouth, his overgrown mustache covering the small device. “Permission granted," he responded.

The mechanics waited at the edge of the tracks for the trolley to approach. They watched as the trolley began to slow, its electric brakes protesting, sending sparks shooting from the underbelly.

Decima stood by the edge of the tracks, his ears instantly picking up the whine of the trolley’s engine. Over the years he had worked on hundreds of trains, and like the cries of a child, he became familiar with the sounds, knowing what each one meant. Tonight, however, the sound was different, unlike any he had ever heard.

The train docked at approximately 12:35 a.m., a cloud of smoke and steam rising from under the lid of the engine. Decima and Terminus immediately went to work, using the trolley’s running boards to climb onto the side of the engine compartment and reach the hood. They waited momentarily for the scorching mist to subside before going to work.

“Decima, hand me a wrench and on the count of three, we’ll open the hood.”

Decima nodded as he slid a wrench across the metal hood of the trolley. Terminus grabbed it and placed it over a large screw securing the left side of the engine’s lid. Decima mimicked this action, and they twisted their wrenches, freeing the lid from its restraint. The hood popped ajar and they worked together, lifting it to reveal the massive engine fed from a single pint of Biomass. Hard to imagine this pint could power the trolley the entire 200 miles , he thought, wiping the beads of sweat dripping off his wind burnt face. He placed his wrench back into the breast pocket of his red overalls and peered inside the bowels of the engine compartment. What they saw was something neither of them recognized — a tangled web of wires and plugs emerging from the overheated engine.

“What the hell,” Terminus muttered.

“How did that happen?” Decima responded, perplexed. What the pair of maintenance workers didn’t realize was the cords and wires were not part of the engine at all. The three years they spent at technical school had not prepared them for the mess of wires protruding from the engine compartment.

“I think we need to call this in to headquarters,” Decima said, in a concerned voice.

“No, we can fix this, Decima, we just need to get in there and figure out what the hell happened. If we call this into headquarters they’ll send us a brigade of Knights, and I really don’t want to be interrogated tonight.”

“It’s your call, boss,” Decima shrugged.

“Wait just one damn second, you two!” the trolley conductor cried from the side of the brick docking station. “That’s my train, and I’m responsible for it. I don’t know what you’re looking at over there, but if there’s a safety concern, then protocol is to contact the CRK.”

Terminus turned to look at the old conductor. The man’s face was pale and lined with age. A white mustache curled up towards his nose, looking as if it would tickle him and cause him to sneeze every time he spoke. The conductor spat a gob of brown chewing tobacco on the brick platform and waited for Terminus’ response.

“Okay, you call it in then, but I’m not going to wait for the CRK to get here. We’re going to try and fix this damn engine before we’re interrogated by those damn Tin Cans,” he said, smugly.

The conductor grunted. “Do what you have to do. I’ll call it in from your post,” he said, making his way up the ramp to the offices.

Terminus and Decima looked at one another. They both knew they had little chance of fixing the engine before a dozen Knights showed up with their shiny gmetal and a swarm of questions. Nonetheless they got to work pulling the loose wires from the engine, trying to determine where they were coming from.

After an hour of work the pair climbed off the running boards and back onto the sturdy brick docking station. They had cleared all but one wire out of the engine, and had found it attached to a small box under the Biomass cell. Neither of them had ever seen anything like it before. It was small, and if it weren’t for the wires, tiny enough to be overlooked by an amateur mechanic. The black casing didn’t appear to be an actual part of the engine. A dark red wire protruded from the center of it and ran up through the heart of the engine. Decima and Terminus stood by the side of the train, sipping from their canteens, and wondered if they really should wait for the CRK to arrive.

“I don’t know about this, Decima, have you ever seen anything like it?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question.”

“It’s pretty apparent that someone put this thing here, and I’m not sure I want to cut that wire,” Terminus said, sighing and taking another sip.

“Whatever it is, the wire is preventing the train from getting enough Biomass to run properly. So I suggest we cut the wire, remove the box, and get this train back on its way. This trolley has over five cars of Biomass, and it’s due in Lunia in two hours. That’s almost a week’s supply,” Decima explained. “Besides, we both know sabotaging a trolley is next to impossible. This is more than likely a new piece of technology the mechanics at a different post installed to help the train run more efficiently.”

“And we didn’t get the memo?” Terminus asked, frowning.

“They’ve stopped telling us when they add new parts to the trains. And with all the hype about new Biomass out there, it’s possible some mechanic added this without sending us a note,” Decima said, shrugging.